


Sweater Weather

by unkissed



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Daddy!Draco, M/M, POV First Person, Uncle Theo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-04
Updated: 2014-09-04
Packaged: 2018-02-16 02:18:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2252169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unkissed/pseuds/unkissed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“It’s too cold for you,” I observe, and before he snaps back with the obviousness of my statement, I pull him close.  “Come here.”  I wrap my arms around him and he’s stiff in my embrace.  Maybe it’s the chill of the air that makes his muscles taut, but maybe it’s because somebody could be watching.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweater Weather

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the song "Sweater Weather" performed by The Neighbourhood. 
> 
> For the Draco with the Dior cufflinks.

I watch Draco bouncing lightly on his heels with his bare toes buried in the sand, the cuffs of his white linen chinos rolled up to reveal ankles as pale as the shore.  His hands are shoved into his pockets and the loose panels of his cotton shirt flap in the wind like a gingham flag. 

“It’s too cold for you,” I observe, and before he snaps back with the obviousness of my statement, I pull him close. “Come here.”  I wrap my arms around him and he’s stiff in my embrace. Maybe it’s the chill of the air that makes his muscles taut, but maybe it’s because somebody could be watching.

I realize it’s the former when his hands snake under my jumper, seeking my warmth.  I would readily give him all my heat and suffer the cold for him. Though I am more than content to hold him like this, with his arms sheltered beneath my shirt and his skin against mine, I have to offer.  “Want to wear my jumper?”

“Then what’ll _you_ wear to keep warm?  You’re in bloody shorts.”

I shrug.  “They’re high-waist, at least.”  Not that it makes a difference.

“No, keep your jumper on. I’ll survive,” he says with a resigned sigh.

I know he hates the beach.  It’s saying a lot that he’s here, on this deserted stretch of sand on the British coast at the tail-end of summer.  But he’s not here for me.  He’s here for him.  And I’m here for Draco.  I can’t help but feel jealous, especially while I watch Draco gazing at him wistfully as he frolics in the water. 

He’s beautiful.  His fair hair curls at the ends, licked by the ocean. His smile is brighter than the sun and his vitality glimmers like the sea.  I imagine it was love at first glance for Draco.  He represents everything I’ve ever wanted, and everything I _never_ wanted – he holds Draco’s love unconditionally in ways I will never be able to.

My heart contracts and feels smaller somehow. I want to die a little bit when I see the love light up Draco’s eyes and realize that they will never shine as brightly for me.  And so I squeeze him more tightly and I nuzzle his cheek with my face, urging him to kiss me.

Draco turns away.  “No, he’ll see,” he mutters.

“So let him see,” I snap, perhaps too sharply. “Let him see what real love is supposed to be.”

Draco frowns slightly.  “He doesn’t understand, Theo.”

“So _make him_ ,” I urge.

We exchange glances and I know he’s still reluctant.

“This is what you brought him here to do. Now do it.”  I know I’m being unduly cruel.  I can’t help that I want Draco to myself, and that this is the only way I can ever come close to that, if never completely.

I feel his lungs expand against mine. His warm breath melts me when he exhales against my neck.  And then he pulls away – I’m instantly cold, chilled down to the bone without him. I watch him pad down to the water line and crouch down in the water, lapping at the shore.

Scorpius lifts his arms up and his tiny hands hook onto the back of his father’s neck as Draco pulls him up. The boy smiles easily, with so much trust and devotion sparkling in his silver-blue eyes.  The smile that Draco returns is soft and delicate – it’s a smile that he’ll never grace anybody else with; a smile meant only for Scorpius.

He carries the boy over to the beach blanket, wraps him up in a thick towel, and then folds him into his arms, if a bit awkwardly. I watch from a safe distance away, using my cigarette as an excuse to give them the space they need without raising alarm in the child.  But I know he’s suspicious already.  He glances back at me and flashes me a tiny, worried grin, and I can see it in his eyes – he knows something’s about to happen.  Damn if that little boy isn’t astute.

I watch the scene play out like muggle silent cinema. Draco talks gravely, but calmly. Scorpius listens carefully, and his brow begins to crease.  The light in his eyes goes dim as tears well up.  I watch the child crumble slowly until he’s a sobbing mass of tiny shaking limbs. And then he explodes. He throws his towel off.

“No!  No!! Noooo!!!” he screams, as if the increasing anger with which he shouts could undo what has already been done. His little hands uselessly beat Draco’s chest as he continues his protest.  “No! You can’t!  You can’t leave me!”

Draco remains calm.  I’ve never seen him exercise patience quite like he does with his son.  “I wouldn’t dream of it, Scorpius!  I’m not going anywhere. But mummy has to go.”

“No!” he kicks the sand resolutely. “I don’t want mummy to leave!”

Draco reaches out a hand, which Scorpius swats away, but he’s undeterred.  “Listen, Scorpius. She loves you very much. This is just something she needs to do for me.  It has nothing to do with you.”

“Don’t make her leave, daddy, please! Please!” He’s throwing a full-blown tantrum, beseeching with ragged, awful screams that only a three-year-old could produce.

Draco flashes a pleading glance my way and that’s my cue to give him backup.  I drop my cigarette, expel the last of the smoke from my lungs, and make my way over across the sand.

I plop down on the blanket next to Draco. Scorpius looks past his father over to me with his tear-stained face and more anguish in his eyes than a child should ever have to feel.  My heart is broken.  “Uncle Theo, make daddy listen,” he wails with a cry that nobody, not even his father, could hope to reason with.  “I want mummy to stay.”

“Well, would you rather daddy leave?” I’m gambling on his answer and dearly hope the inferences I’ve been making about his relationship with Draco aren’t wrong.

Scorpius huffs and puffs through his tears, trying to catch his breath.  Draco hesitantly pats his back with as much fondness and reassurance as he knows how to give – I know it’s hard for him, having not had any sort of model of fatherly affection. Scorpius looks between us and shakes his head in a less-than-sure _no_.

“I thought so,” I say with a small smile. “But one of them has to leave. Mummy and daddy can only be happy if they don’t live together anymore.  So wouldn’t you rather that mummy leaves?  So they can both be happy?”

As soon as it leaves my mouth, I realize it’s an entirely unfair choice to put in the hands of a three-year-old boy. What child wouldn’t choose his own mother?  I recall the hundreds of times I screamed at the gods, begging to take my father away in exchange for my mother’s life.

He shakes his head with more conviction, as expected, and pouts petulantly.  “No. Mummy and daddy both stay.”

“You’ll still see mummy as often as you like, Scor,” Draco tells him.

“Yeah, and you’ll get to live in _two_ houses.  How brilliant is that?” I don’t know if that’s really an incentive or not, but I’ve got to try.

Scorpius is still pouting, but at least he’s stopped crying and is considering it.  After playing contemplatively with the sand for a moment, he says, ‘Will I have two of everything?  Two rooms? Two horses?  Two sets of toy knights?”

Draco answers dramatically, no doubt trying to make the situation sound more appealing, “Of course!  I mean, maybe not two horses – mummy’s going to live in the city. But definitely two of everything else. Anything you want. You’ll have the same stuff at mummy’s house as in the manor.”

Scorpius heaves a long sigh, letting his shoulders rise and fall.  “I’ll think about it.”

I can’t help but smirk a little. Of course, he believes what he has to say really has some sort of weight in the matter.  Typical Malfoy.

Draco’s head drops to the top of his son’s and blesses him with a tiny kiss.  They both smile weakly at each other – it’s like looking at two versions of the same person – one twenty-six years younger than the other, but perhaps no less wise.

That’s my cue to make a polite exit. “I’ll let you two mull it over together, yeah?”  I get up and brush the sand off my bottom.

Scorpius tugs the leg of my shorts and a look of panic pinches his face.  “No, not you too! You can’t leave.”

I crouch down and hold his shoulders, reassuringly firm, but still gentle.  “Hey hey, I’m not going for good, big guy.”  I’ve been calling him _big guy_ ever since I overheard him reprimanding Astoria for calling him her _special little boy_.  In Scorpius’ eyes, he’s not a baby anymore.  I wish he weren’t in such a rush to grow up, especially when circumstances are about to age him a bit prematurely.

“So you and daddy aren’t getting _dee-vorced-ed_?” His eyes are wide and full of confusion. I feel so horrible for Draco – I can’t imagine how hard it’s going to be to explain what this all means. But I also have to laugh. I glance at Draco and I can tell he’s biting back a smirk.

“No, Scorpius.  Your dad and I can’t get divorced because we’re not married. But anyway, I’m not going away,” I explain. 

Draco chimes in with something we both should have said at the beginning.  “And to be clear, mummy isn’t going away either – she’s just going to live somewhere else. You’ll still have her, and daddy, and Uncle Theo too.”

He smiles again.  In his eyes I can see some comprehension clicking into place. “Oh, okay.  I’m glad you’re not leaving, Uncle Theo.  You make daddy happy.”

There’s no hiding the joy in my smile. “Well, I try.” I lock eyes with Draco’s. And I realize I still have a place in his heart. 

I may not have the entirety of Draco’s heart all to myself, but I don’t mind sharing it if it’s with a good kid like Scorpius.

As if his world hadn’t just been turned upside down, Scorpius jumps up excitedly.  “I wanna go swimming again!  Come with me!” Each of his hands grabs one of mine and one of Draco’s, and though he’s pulling with all his might, he’s not strong enough to make us budge.

“I’m not wearing a swimming costume. Daddy’s gonna watch, okay?” Draco never goes in the water. Not even for Scorpius.

Scorpius concentrates all his effort on me and tugs resolutely.  “Uncle Theo, come swimming with me!”

I’m not wearing a swimming costume either, but that’s never stopped me before.  I pull off my jumper and toss it to Draco.  “Here. At least one of us won’t freeze to death.”

Scorpius is wearing a full body suit like he always does when he goes swimming, even when the weather is hot. Merlin forbid Draco and Astoria’s little prince should get sunburned!  He runs into the ocean and the gentle waves swallow him up in a foamy embrace. He laughs like it’s the best thing ever. I dive in and the shock of cold water pulls a pained exclamation from me.

“Bloody hell!”

From the beach, I hear a reprimand faintly on the wind. “Language, Theodore! Be a good example!”

I turn to Scorpius sheepishly. “I mean, Merlin’s beard!”

He giggles.  “It’s okay.  I won’t repeat it… In front of daddy.”

Gods, this kid.  He’s all Malfoy.

We laugh and shout and let the waves toss us around until my limbs are numb.  When we come out of the water, Draco’s there, waiting with a towel for Scorpius and a kiss for me.


End file.
